Pack of Lies

I regret that I was once again the reason for tears in your eyes. I did not intent to do it. Today, you sat in a corner in the mourning attire, sharing your thoughts with your childhood friend. This was not what I expected from you. I thought, you would feel relieved after the whole chapter is closed.
    “She was a beautiful child,” she said.
    You are lying, mama.
I remember how you were always worried about my dressing. You liked me wearing some make-up though I hated it. You sent my sisters to your maternal home whenever the match-makers stepped in. You were worried about my indifferent attitude towards family members. You took special attention to what I wore whenever there was a family gathering. You were very choosy about colors to conceal my duskiness. You expected me to be more feminine than my usual some-what masculine behavior.
    “She was never a nuisance for me,” she said.
    You are lying, mama.
You complained me of being a sick child. You spent sleepless nights attending me. You had tough time in making me take medicines. At times you gave me that how-burden-you-are look. You always felt that my other siblings were better than me. You despised the complexity in me. You wanted me to lead the picture-perfect life that you have designed. You tried your best to hide my short-comings.
    “She was the most obedient of all my kids,” she said.
    You are lying, mama.
You were worried about my arrogant nature. You took so much of pain to get a right match for me and I snubbed those. You were shocked when I revealed that I have already chosen my life partner. You found thousand reasons for rejecting the chosen life partner to bury the you-deceived-me feeling. After marriage, you tried your best to cover your contempt.
    “She was always with me when I needed her,” she said
    You are lying, mama.
You detested me in ignoring your feelings. You could not bear my monosyllable answers. You felt ignored when I do not wish you on your birthdays as my siblings do. You liked me to listen to your problems. You felt hurt when I stared at you while you expected kind words from me.
    “How much I miss her!” she said.
    You are lying, mama.
After marriage, you did not entertain my coming home. You gave me many examples to demonstrate your dislike about my frequent visits. You explained that you were happy to see me with my husband. You politely hinted me that you have responsibilities towards my siblings too.
    “She was a perfect wife,” she said.
    You are lying, mama.
You were shocked when I mentioned about getting divorced. I was tired playing the role of perfect wife to a perfect husband. You termed it as escapism from responsibilities. I termed it as freedom from perfection. We had a bad fight that day. That was the last day when we talked to each other.
    “She died of broken heart,” she said.
    You are lying, mama.
I died because I wanted freedom. Freedom from being reminded how dependent I was. Freedom from being reminded how incompetent I was. Freedom from being reminded how undeserving I was. Freedom from being reminded that how far I am from perfection.
    Mama, now that I am dead, I want to be free from all emotional bindings...

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The Euphoric Rejection

It was late in the evening and the rains had been pouring down heavily. The dim lights decorated the street. I didn’t realize that I was getting drenched till that splash of water hit my face. Holding its father’s hand, the kid was happily splashing water in a nearby puddle. The father was enjoying the splashes with the kid. My envious eyes followed the kid for a few moments. I walked ahead and plopped water from the next available puddle. But, I held no hand.

***

The old man paced hysterically in the brightly-lit room. The old woman sat on the chair of the dining table, which was placed in the corner of the room. If not for her slow movements, any one would have mistaken her for a mannequin.
Opposite to the pacing man was seated a seemingly perturbed young woman in a plush cushion chair. The old man continued his conversation.
“After all these happenings, how do you expect us to consider you as a part of the family?”
“I didn’t give explanations for being part of the family. I gave the genuine reasons,” said the young lady trying to be calm.
“Genuine reasons? You ruined my daughter’s life…”
“I didn’t ruin your daughter’s life. I myself was a victim.”
“How dare you say that? You knew the truth and you never confided it with her. You waited till the situation worsened and utilized it for your own good,” shouted the old man.
“Pardon me, sir. It was your daughter who put me into the trouble. It was her indecisiveness that aggravated the situation. She cried over the past and never made it into the present. I didn’t brood over what happened and I became successful. Was that my fault?”
“It was easy for you to come out of the situation because you were the reason for what had happened. She suffered a lot. You will never find peace in your life.”
“I have already stated the reasons. I don’t have enough time. So, good bye.”
The old man watched the young woman leaving the room with disgust.

***

Relationships are like the strings of a guitar. If you strum it in the right way, you get the sweetest sound or you break the strings.
I wished to be that kid again. I held out my empty hands and let the rain drops fall on it. A crowd thronged the empty street and I was not alone.
“Hi! You are damn wet. Join me,” called out an old friend, holding an umbrella.
The broken strings of the guitar can be replaced, I thought.